Control
by lilyofthewest
Summary: Director Shepard's drive, perfectionism and need for order made her a great special agent, and an even better director. When she set her mind to accomplish a goal she was never satisfied with anything less than reaching above and beyond.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N -** Yes, in this story Jenny has an eating disorder but it's not the stereotypical teenage "ooh I want to be thin" thing, it's a function of her need for control. The intent was not to show her as a weak damsel-in-distress but as a strong woman that at the same time has flaws and on occasion needs help.

This story might be triggering to some…

Thank you to darkrollingsea and RomanticSouthern for beta reading and helping me catch any the trouble spots.

**Disclaimer **- NCIS sadly isn't mine, neither are Jenny and Gibbs or any other character.

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Jenny Shepard had worked her entire career to get ahead, to climb the chain of command. And she had been successful.

Here she was, Director of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Even after a year, the title made her smile some when she thought about it. She loved her position and the power it gave her to boss around even the most chauvinistic of men.

And she loved the control. When she was sitting in MTAC running an operation, she felt that she ruled the world, or at least her section of it. It made the insecurities she carried in her personal life recede into a tiny box she could put up on a shelf.

Her drive, perfectionism and need for order made her a great special agent, and an even better director. But it was a double-edged sword. When she set her mind to accomplish a goal she was never satisfied with anything less than reaching above and beyond it. Second place, second best wouldn't do - nothing but greatness was enough for her.

Her need for excellence in every aspect of her life had caused her to take drastic action to regain control when she felt like she was free-falling. When the outside world stopped working within her comfort zone, she could find some reassurance in the few things that were entirely in her control. One of those things was her weight. She could set her goal and see it come closer each day with the number on the scale. It was an empirical and unequivocal reminder that she would be okay, that she was in control of her life and that she could achieve anything.

A side bonus of her job was how busy it kept her. It allowed her to focus on everything but eating. When the idea of cupcakes or pasta entered her thoughts, there was the ever-present stack of files that needed her review nearby. This let her maintain a fairly stable weight, possibly a bit heavier than she'd like, but not entirely unacceptable, especially when controlling it wasn't the main focus of her attention.

Of course, there were the days when her body would fight against her and she'd crave chocolate or eat too much bread. The sudden jump in the number on the scale would cause her mood to decline markedly. But, as the Boss, with a capital B, she didn't have to answer to many people and usually the weight gain was temporary.

She had also managed to avoid the subject of food with the agents at NCIS. She almost always took lunch in the privacy of her office, or skipped it altogether without unwelcome questions. She would tell her secretary, Cynthia, that unless there was an emergency she was not to be bothered during the hour. She then used the time to squeeze in a short yoga session or she could just work straight though the lunch hour until it was close enough to the dinner she would hypothetically be eating later. And the long hours gave her reason to apparently survive on coffee, diet soda and protein shakes.

Combined with her arsenal of diversion tactics and ability to lie to most people with ease, this relatively strict diet, even with the occasional but infrequent binges, made it possible for her to have the occasional dinner out or to attend formal banquet events without experiencing too much distress.

There were also the more preferable events without a seated meal, like the one she was currently attending. The buffet-style hors d'oeuvres and desserts were much easier to avoid by floating from group to group. Of course, that was until Gibbs approached her.

"Hungry?" He asked offering her a small plate filled with shrimp and a few savory pastries along with a miniature cheesecake.

She shook her head, "I've had some already, but thanks."

"Jen, I've been with you all night. You haven't touched a thing." He motioned to the empty glass flute she was holding, "Plus, the way you're downing that champagne you really should eat something."

He put his arm around her waist affectionally, leading her to a place at one of the tables. "I'm not about to clean up after you tonight," he whispered under his breath. "This isn't Paris."

"I've learned how to hold my liquor, thank you," she replied in a sultry tone. "Don't you remember? You're the one that taught me,"

They both enjoyed the flirting and the verbal sparring they so often engaged in. It wasn't a release for the sexual tension they had been feeling since their shared time in Europe, but it was something. She let the shimmering green shawl around her shoulders drop down towards the crook of her arms, revealing more of her skin.

He slid the plate towards her. "Eat."

She picked up a shrimp, nibbling at the edge. Perhaps bringing Gibbs was a mistake, he was too observant, noticed too much. And he cared too much. He was watching her take minuscule bites of a pastry, she'd have to try taking more evasive actions.

She licked her lips, catching his blue eyes. She took a little piece of cheesecake and brought it to her mouth. "The desserts were better in Marseilles. That little cafe? You know which one I'm talking about. We'd have dinner and then go upstairs…"

He nodded a little, he remembered the cafe and the desserts almost as well as their extra curricular activities. But he also knew that as "Director Shepard" she wouldn't be trying to seduce him, especially in such a public venue, unless she was running interference, though he wasn't entirely sure what she was trying to distract him from.

"Jen," he said, the tone of his voice telling her he knew what she was up to. "I taught you that, too."

She frowned a little. "Damn it!" she thought to herself.

She mentally ran through the various equations and numbers she could calculate in her sleep. The calories she had already consumed and how many remained in her daily allowance and various guesses at the nutritional content of the plate before her. What would be enough to appease Gibbs but not enough to remind her how much she missed dessert. She reasoned it would be alright to indulge just a little, because she had skipped breakfast and had only a side salad for lunch. She ate the shrimp, another pastry and the cheesecake.

An hour later they were riding in the limo back to her house. She had complained when he slid in next to her but he said, "I'm not just your date tonight, I'm part of your protection detail too. Job's not done until you're safe at home."

He walked her to the door, snatching the key from her hand and opening the door for her.

"Jethro…" she warned, raising her eyebrow.

"I'm just being nice."

"You're never just 'nice.' What do you want?"

He stepped inside the foyer, closing the heavy door behind him. "I'm worried about you, Jen. You need to take care of yourself."

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Special Agent Gibbs." She took a step backwards. "Your concern is unnecessary."

Back in his basement, Gibbs couldn't shake the feeling that she looked different.

He was taken by surprise when she had turned around that first day in MTAC and said, "Hello, Jethro. Should we skip the 'You haven't changed a bit' bull?"

He knew she had worked extremely hard to get to where she was but he wondered at what price. She was still beautiful but her features had hardened some, possibly from age or stress or both. Her hair was shorter and lighter than it had been, and he didn't care for her uptight "professional" attire.

The truth was she had changed. He rarely looked at photos but tonight he thumbed through a few snapshots he had taken of her in Europe.

There was the one from in front of the farmhouse in Serbia. They were getting ready to leave after being holed up for a week. She was smiling and he had always liked the idea that it was at least partially because of him.

And then there was one he had quickly snapped on their one day of sightseeing in London. It was raining and instead of hiding under the umbrella she was relishing the cool drops on her skin not caring that her flowered sundress was wet and clinging to her. She didn't even notice him taking the picture, but it was his favorite of her.

Usually when he thought about Europe his mind drifted to the bedroom. He wondered now if he had missed something. She went on a run every morning, but that had seemed normal. Like every wife he'd ever had she occasionally asked him how she looked to which he had always answered 'Beautiful.' There were a few times that she had made passing comments about having eaten too much, again like every wife he'd ever had. And once, no, maybe twice, while they had been working undercover, he had found her kneeling over the toilet after a large meal. Both times she had claimed that the meal didn't sit well with her and he hadn't given it much thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Six weeks later, Director Shepard was in her office, thinking.

Two weeks before the dinner Gibbs had escorted her to, the stresses piling up around her regarding the handling of a botched sting operation and an altercation with the director of the FBI over jurisdiction on a high-profile case had sent her spiraling into a state of anxiety.

_"The murders span state lines, making it a FBI case," the Director had said through the screen in MTAC._

_"All of the victims were in the Navy, NCIS should take the lead," she argued. _

_"NCIS doesn't have the resources or the personnel to handle this investigation. There are 5 dead bodies between the two bases and we don't have time for you to play Director Barbie."_

_She put her hands on her hips, desperately trying to maintain her composure. She knew that the men in the boys club never saw her as their peer but she could easily do without comments like that one. "Director O'Connell, I can assure you that nobody here sees this as a game. We've already been working the first three murders for a month and I have my best field agents preparing to fly to Florida to investigate the rest."_

_"The whole thing will run much smoother without your help. Have you forgotten that the last time I offered a joint op, you nearly cost us six months of undercover work? I'm sure the your boss will agree." He clicked off his video feed before she could counter that the problem with the last op was that nobody had bothered to bring her up to speed on anything that had happened before she became director, she had been flying blind and was only trying to protect her team. _

_Sure enough, by the end of the day she had received orders from the SecNav's office to hand over all of their evidence and files and to stop the investigation. The whole exchange had brought back memories of every other time she had been belittled by one of the many men she worked with. They started running through her mind on a continuous loop, snowballing together until she questioned her own abilities. She felt crushed under the pressure to be better, to prove to them and herself that she was still in control._

She remedied the feelings of inadequacy the same way she always did — with less food and ample amounts of exercise. The combined effects of her actions were quickly manifested in the digital numbers on the scale and the way her collarbone and the bones of her wrists and hips became more and more prominent as she continued to shrink. These changes gave her an euphoric feeling that was addictive.

There had been some scattered talk at NCIS about the director. Jenny had much more contact with her agents than any other of her predecessors but she was beginning to withdraw, spending more and more of her time in her office. Ziva and Abby had been the first to notice that her usually impeccably tailored suits looked slightly off. They both had bit their tongues when it came to mentioning anything to anyone figuring that it wasn't their business anyway. When it got to the point that Tony and McGee were noticing something was different, they had decided to go to Gibbs as a group. He acted like he hadn't noticed a thing, suggesting they were seeing things themselves.

In all reality, he had noticed. He had begun to notice a few weeks earlier when he had barged into her office unannounced.

_"Special Agent Gibbs," she looked up at him, surprised._

_"Jen," he said a little agitated, walking directly over to her desk. "There's some suit from Homeland Security saying that we need to take a security class. I need my team today, we're working that Welch case."_

_She tried to shuffle some papers around to cover what she was working on before he could see, "I'll see what I can do about it."_

_He opened his mouth to say something else, but was shocked at her calmness. Usually when he stormed into her office there was some sort of confrontation. He nodded and walked out the door. What she didn't know was that he had seen what she was writing, a two-columned list with words like "Protein Shake," "Apple," "Coffee" and "SF G" in one column and numbers in the other. Definitely some sort of food chart, and he made up his mind to get a better look at it. _

It took some time and planning but he managed to sneak back into her office one day when she was at lunch and Cynthia had been called, by him, down to the legal department.

He flipped through the files on her desk and then, remembering where she had always kept important personal papers while they were in Europe, he checked under the last page of the large desk calendar. Sure enough, three index cards were stashed near the top, each filled out with her perfect script. They were each logs - for weight, exercise and food.

He was studying them carefully when he heard her greet Cynthia. He quickly shoved the cards back to their hiding place and plopped down on the couch she kept in the corner. She walked in, carrying a gym bag over her shoulder and a water bottle in one hand.

"Gibbs!" She jumped, not expecting to see anyone in her office. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you." He tried to diffuse her angry tone with a wink.

"Jethro," she said, exasperated. "I was at lunch, and Cynthia didn't know you were here either."

"Well, no Jen, she didn't," he laughed a little, trying to come up with a save. "I let myself in. I thought I'd buy you a coffee." He eyed the exercise gear she was still holding. "Where'd you go to lunch?"

His coffee plan had worked, apparently she didn't want to discuss anything at the moment. "The sandwich place down the street." He noted to himself that her eye twitched slightly. "Coffee, then?"


	3. Chapter 3

A few more weeks passed, and while he wanted to say something to her, Gibbs knew it would be much more effective if he waited until the right time. Simply confronting her would turn into a battle of wills and they were both unlikely to back down from a fight. But it was getting to where he couldn't wait much longer, she was getting noticeably thinner and the bags under her eyes weren't so easily hidden by makeup marring her increasingly pale skin.

"Director," Cynthia said, poking her head though the open door. "You're needed in MTAC."

Jenny nodded, standing up. She had been feeling particularly lightheaded today and she wondered if perhaps she should have stopped after an hour on the elliptical machine she kept in the spare bedroom this morning instead of challenging herself to go for another half-hour.

She steadied herself against the desk for a moment, smoothed her skirt and started down the corridor. When she had finished her discussion, she stepped back into the hallway. Gibbs ambushed her at the door.

"Jen," he said, blocking her path. "I need to talk with you."

"Not now, Gibbs," She tried to get past him. He wouldn't let her through, so she spun on her heels to take the long way around. The fast movement was enough to knock her off balance, causing her to fall against him.

"How about now?" He asked.

He took hold of her softly and walked her back to her office, sitting her down in her chair.

She stared at him, waiting for him to say the inevitable, "Spit it out, Jethro."

"What's going on, Jenny?"

"Nothing that's any of your business, Special Agent Gibbs."

"You've already said that."

"I said it wasn't your concern," she stared at him some more, her arms crossed over her chest. "It still isn't."

"Well, I'm making it my business," he stopped pacing in front of her. "Have you looked in a mirror recently, Jen?"

"If you have a point, make it soon," she said sharply, starting to get up from her chair.

He walked over to her, backing her into a sitting position again and taking her upper arm in his hand. It easily spanned the circumference. "Are you sick?"

"No, I am not sick. Stop worrying."

"Then what? You're getting too thin. Are you eating anything but those shake things?"

"Yes, I eat, Jethro," she insisted away from him. "I'm trying to get back in shape."

He released her arm. "In shape? You look fine!"

"How would you know? You haven't seen my shape in years."

"It can't have changed very much."

"This is why you've been divorced three times. You know nothing about women." She stood up again, this time much too quickly. She collapsed in a heap back into the chair.

Gibbs picked up the phone and called Ducky.

"You seem to have been dehydrated, my dear." Ducky said, securing an IV bag to the stand next to Jenny. "And your blood sugar is quite low. You ate breakfast this morning?"

"I'm sure I'll be fine, doctor," she said, ignoring his question about eating. "I should get back to work."

The doctor gave her a look that told her he knew what was really wrong with her. The look she shot him made it clear that he had better not say anything in front of Gibbs if he wanted to keep his job. Instead he said, "I'm afraid that wouldn't be a very good idea. I am sending you home."

"Dr. Mallard, I am the director of NCIS. I cannot just go home," she said in her most official tone, standing up.

"Yeah, you can Jen." Gibbs sat her back down. "I'll look after her, Duck."

"I am not going home with him!" she protested.

"I'll take you to your house," Gibbs said.

"Ducky, please. I'm fine," she said. "I just forgot to have breakfast."

"My dear, you need to rest. As a doctor I am not going to allow you to stay here and I know if I don't send somebody along to take care of you, you won't follow my instructions," Ducky said.


	4. Chapter 4

Jenny stepped out of her closet after changing out of her pinstriped skirt suit, she had resigned to taking the rest of the day off if it kept everyone off her back.

Gibbs was waiting on the chair in the corner. He was bothered by the sight of her tiny frame drowning in the fabric but still he couldn't help laughing a little.

"What's so humorous?" she asked.

"That's not what I remember your pajamas looking like. Those look more like mine."

"Gibbs! You didn't honestly think I'd come out in some sexy silk and lace number, did you now?"

He shook his head some, "Well, no, but I didn't figure you for the flannel pants," he noticed that the letters on the shirt were NIS not NCIS. "And… is that my shirt?"

A little smile cut across her face. "You left it, in Paris."

He pulled back the covers on the bed, "Come on, I'll tuck you in."

She sighed a little and slipped into bed.

The protective side of him had been fully engaged. He pulled the sheets up around her and brushed her hair back from her forehead, kissing it softly. "I'll be downstairs," he turned to leave. "Just holler if you need anything."

"Wait," She said quietly. "Stay."

He looked at her, raising his eyebrow.

"Please, stay with me." She sat up a little, patting the empty space on the bed next to her.

He nodded slightly, kicked off his shoes and lied down next to her.

"Hold me?" she whispered. She spent so much of her time acting infallible and strong that is was difficult to let her guard down and admit she needed anyone or anything. But right now, she needed to feel cared for and loved, if only for a moment and Gibbs was just the man she needed it from.

He wrapped his arms around her protectively, still on top of the covers. She moved a little closer, nuzzling her face against his chest, taking in the scent of his shirt — coffee mixed with bourbon, sawdust and him.

His fingers brushed the skin of her arm lightly, soothing her to sleep. Her eyes fought to stay open.

"Sleep, Jenny. I'll be here when you wake up."

Once her breathing finally slowed and he knew she was sleeping soundly he took a moment to look at her more closely. Even under the thick blankets her outline looked impossibly small and her shoulders felt sharp under his arm.

"Why are you doing this to yourself, Jen?" he asked himself.

The combination of her gentle breathing and warm body next to him was enough to lull him to sleep with her.

He woke a few hours later, she was still slumbering in him arms. She eventually stirred a little, her eyes fluttering open.

"Have a nice nap, gorgeous?" he asked her.

She stretched a little, "You still think I'm gorgeous?"

"I never stopped." He looked into her green eyes. "What is going on?"

"You don't understand, Gibbs. I…"

"You what?" he prodded.

"There's a lot of pressure. I'm the first female director of an armed Federal agency and there's a lot of scrutiny. I have to look perfect, all the time, and there's hardly a man in the Navy, Army or any other agency we work with that doesn't think that I shouldn't just go home and bake cookies… or they make spiteful comments about how I should have a replacement for when it's my 'time of the month.'"

"Ignore 'em."

"It doesn't always work like that."

"You don't think that you're a powerful, beautiful woman, and one who is entirely capable of running an agency?"

"Somedays, yes. Others, no."

"I think you are." He played with a lock of her red hair.

"This is nice, waking up next to you," she changed the subject.

"It is." He thought about how long it had been since he had woken up with a woman he loved so much next to him. Even though she had hurt him, he still deeply cared for her.

A thought crossed her mind and she bit her lip, wondering if she should say anything. "Jethro?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you still think about what we had?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think we'd ever have another shot?" She turned herself towards him, tracing his jaw with her hand.

"Maybe."

"I think we could." She placed her head back down on his shoulder, her hand falling to his chest. "I miss you."

He wasn't sure where this was coming from, or if she was preparing some sort of trap for him to fall into later. Regardless, he had missed her as well. And while their physical relationship had ended years ago, it didn't take much for the feelings to return. Gently stroking her side he asked, "What are you saying?"

"That I miss you, Jethro. I miss this," she lightly kissed the corner of his lips, her face hovering just above his. She met him again for another, planted squarely on his mouth. She moaned softly with surprise as his tongue asked for access. She willingly accepted his advance, deepening their kiss.

She pushed the bedspread aside and straddled his waist, slipping her hands underneath his shirt. He watched her for a moment as she tugged at the fabric, trying to remove it.

"Jen?" he asked her as she undid the last button.

She looked into his eyes, her voice pleading, "Make love to me, Jethro." She kissed him again. "Please."

He gave her another questioning look, "You're sure this is what you want?"

She nodded, pulling her t-shirt over her head, depositing it on the floor. A twinge of sorrow hit him when he saw that he could see some of her ribs. He gently rolled her over to her back, kissing the side of her face and down her neck. He kissed the bones of her clavicle and chest, letting his hands fall to caress her breasts. A soft moan escaped her as she remembered the passion of their former relationship and she squirmed a little under his touch.

He savored the tender and unhurried nature of their lovemaking, it was different from the frantic sex they had while undercover. The time that had passed since didn't stop their bodies from remembering the passion they had shared.

Reaching their intended release and untangling their appendages, he gently brushed her bangs away from her forehead.

"Thank you, Jethro" she whispered.

He kissed the top of her head, still holding her close to him. He waited for a few minutes and then said, "Jenny…"

Here it came, she knew what he was going to say next. She nodded a little.

"When will this stop?"

"When what will stop?" She tried to pretend she didn't know what he was talking about.

"Don't lie to me, Jen. I know you didn't just 'forget' to eat breakfast this morning. When is whatever this is going to stop?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"I think it's time it did now."

"But…" She started.

"But what? You hardly weigh anything."

"Hardly," she scoffed.

"What's the number? 110? 105?"

"106." She said quietly.

"Jen," he sighed, knowing she had been a healthy 125 pounds when they were undercover in Paris. "And I suppose you have a goal?"

She hesitated, knowing he wouldn't like her target but also knowing he wouldn't let her not answer. "100."

It didn't matter to her that at her height technically anything under 108 was "underweight," or that she had never been particularly heavy to begin with. For that matter, she didn't even care that she knew there were probably long-term health consequences to her actions.

He sat up, fishing his pants from the pile of discarded clothes and pulling them on.

"What're you doing?" she asked, snapping out of her thoughts.

"Come here, follow me." He got up and retrieved her robe from the hook in the bathroom handing it to her. She slipped it on, following him.

He led her into the bathroom and to the full length mirror. He stood her minuscule frame in front of it, pushing the robe off her shoulders. "Look at yourself."

She glanced at her own reflection, she knew he was trying to make a point and in his own way trying to help but her mind distorted the image she saw. He kissed the back of her hair, "Don't you see?" he asked.

"Yeah, I see," she pinched the skin at her stomach. "I see fat here, and here." She pointed to her thighs. "And I have bingo arms." She held her arms out, indicating her triceps.

"That's skin. Everybody has skin, Jen."

She shook her head in disagreement.

He traced her prominent collarbone and then her shoulder blades. "You're skin and bones."

She shook her head again, looking away.

He sighed, wrapping her robe around her. This was going nowhere. "What's it going to take, Jen?"

She turned to look at him. "Honestly, I don't know."

He nodded, "If you figure it out?"

"I'll let you know."


	5. Chapter 5

Gibbs tried to keep an eye on Jenny as much as possible, while keeping his concerns to himself.

He found himself assuaging the worries that came from his team, or lying to them when they said anything about the extra time he was spending with the director.

Ducky had unsuccessfully fished for information a few times over the past month. And Tony had made a joke comparing the director to some skeletal remains at a crime scene, causing Gibbs to head slap him.

Ultimately, Abby had cornered Gibbs one day in her lab, demanding to know what was wrong with the Director. He suspected that she had been chosen as a delegate for the entire team. He had assured her that it was nothing but when she pressed him for more information he conceded that it was something but he was taking care of it.

As the weeks turned into months, Jenny noticed how he was always catching her at meal times and bringing dinner up to her office when he could, sitting with her while she picked at the food. She made a good show for him, but it was only a show. He was still the lead agent and spent a great deal of time investigating outside of headquarters. She strategically planned all of her eating so she could do it in front of him and scheduled her workouts carefully around the times she knew he was out.

The only reasons she put up with it at all were the fact that his constant attention made it easier to not binge and the fleeting feeling of safety she felt when she was with him. And of course, while she knew that their relationship had changed since Europe, there were other benefits to having him around. Still, it wasn't enough to convince her that if she were to start eating 'normally' again things wouldn't spiral back into chaos.

But even with his efforts, she was still managing to lose weight, though it was more slowly.

That was until one morning after he had fixed her dinner. She tried so hard to keep her hunger in check, but the steak was delicious and he had shared a decadent piece of death-by-chocolate cake from one of the best bakeries in DC with her, but she suspected he had tricked her into eating quite a bit more than half of it.

She stood in front of the mirror, holding up her nightgown to examine her midsection. She turned sideways to see her profile and then the other way. Frowning, she quickly stripped off her clothing and stepped on the scale.

"Damn it." She muttered, looking down at the digital number. "Damn it, damn it, damn it."

"Jen?" Gibbs called from the bedroom, he had stayed the night again. "You all right?"

"I'm fine." She replied through the door. She stepped off the scale and reset it, stepping on it again. "Damn it!" she said again, preparing to step on the scale one more time when the door opened.

"Gibbs!" she exclaimed, startled by his sudden presence. She scrambled to cover herself up, pushing the scale back to it's place in the closet.

"I know about the scale, Jenny." He said softly.

He didn't need his special agent training to notice the changes in her habits. She'd disappear in the early morning to go exercise, she weighed herself multiple times a day, and she cut her food into microscopic pieces before eating the pieces one at a time. He also noticed that her caffeine intake had increased exponentially, between the black coffee and diet soda it was a wonder that she ever managed to sleep. At some point, something was going to have to give.

She pulled her robe tighter around her shoulders, not responding.

"Tell me what's wrong," he tried to put his arms around her.

She shook her head, pulling away from him.

"Talk to me, tell me what you're thinking." He led her back to the bed, lying down next to her.

She took a deep breath, as if trying to find some sort of excuse floating in the air. "It's nothing."

"Your right eye twitches when you lie," he stroked her arm gently.

Her eyes filled with tears as she nodded some. "Fine. Four pounds. I gained four pounds."

"Weight fluctuates, Jen."

"That's not the point, it was the cake."

"It was a half a slice of cake, Jen, it wasn't the entire cake."

She tried to rationalize it in her mind, the numbers and mathematical equations running through her head. Surely it wasn't possible, but yet the numbers she had seen on the scale proved it to her.

"It was the cake," she snapped, turning away from him.

"Damn it, Jen!" He shouted, he had been trying to be patient with her but it was getting old. "I'm trying to help you and all you do is push me away." He got out of bed and stomped out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen.

She laid silently for a while, letting tears take over until finally she pulled herself up and went to find him.

"I'm sorry, Jethro." Jenny said, he was sitting at the table drinking coffee and bourbon and reading the paper.

"Hmm?" he looked up as she came up behind him.

"I know you don't like apologies but I didn't mean to snap at you." She wanted to tell him that she was sorry for doing this to him, for making him worry about her. He had all but moved in with her, spending most nights with her. She knew it was so he could monitor her more closely.

"It'll take more than that to get rid of me. I care about you, Jen." He knew immediately it was a poor choice in words.

"You… I…" she stumbled over the words. "You only care about me?"

She made a move to leave but he grabbed her arm, pulling her to him.

"I love you and I adore you," he kissed her.

She tried to resist the shiver that ran through her as their lips connected. He pulled her body closer as her fingers ran through his hair.

"Promise me that you love me, that you won't leave me," she whispered against his skin.

He bit his tongue to keep from reminding her that she had left him, not the other way around. Instead, he planted a few soft kisses on her forehead. "I'm not going anywhere, Jenny."

She rested against him for a moment, enjoying the sound of his breathing and the scent of his coffee. Her head fell to his shoulder, her eyes closing as he held her close, pulling her into his lap and rubbing her back in small circles.

He let her doze for awhile, but after nearly a half hour he broke the silence. "Jen."

"Hmm?" her eyes opened sleepily.

"Let me help you."

"It's not something you can fix, Jethro."

"Then let me try, what can I do?"

"What you're doing. Being here — holding me."

"Jen…"

"Yes?"

"I can't watch you do this to yourself much longer. I promised you I wouldn't leave, so I need you to promise me something too."

"What's that?"

"I need you to eat more, Jenny."

She started to protest, but he interrupted. "I'm not saying you have to eat everything in sight, but please, don't take this any further than it's gone already."

She nodded a little, "Okay," she said tentatively.

"I just want you to be healthy, you know… I'd like to keep you a long time."


	6. Chapter 6

She tried to keep her word to Gibbs, making an attempt to eat a little bit of everything he brought her. He had started watching her more closely, and it hurt her to think that he couldn't trust her enough to believe she had eaten unless he saw her do it but at the same time she knew that she would have kept lying to him otherwise.

During the week, he continued to bring a large salad and some sort of carbohydrate to her office at lunchtime, sitting with her while she ate. The salads were a sort of unspoken compromise between them - she'd could eat it and he could feel a bit better knowing she was at least eating a little. Dinner time was a similar affair, but he had persuaded her to occasionally consider something more meal-like.

Tonight was one of those nights. She sat on the sofa, examining every item listed on the menu from the Thai restaurant over and over.

"Jen, what would you like?" he asked, holding the phone.

She glanced up over the top of the piece of paper and shrugged. She felt panicky, trying to decide which dish would satisfy him, but at the same time would not cause her to put on any weight.

"You still like pad Thai?"

She frowned, anything with noodles and oil didn't particularly fit into her idea of 'safe' foods. "It's alright. I'd prefer a salad, though."

"Well, yeah, Jen. I know, but you agreed to have actual food tonight."

He placed their order and paid when it came to the door. He set out two plates while she found and filled two glasses with water. He dumped the containers out onto the dishes. After so many take-out meals eaten from the box at the office, he enjoyed using the real thing.

She picked at the noodles with her chopsticks, separating out the vegetables and eating those first. She then sifted through the noodles, eating one at a time. She finished about a third of it, and busied herself by moving the rest around the plate.

Gibbs put his hand over hers, stopping her. "That's not going to make it disappear."

"I'm full," she said, pushing the plate away.

He looked at the partially-eaten meal and then her. "It'll save," he said finishing the last few bites of his own dish and sampling a bite of hers.

She dumped the remainder back into the take-out container and stashed it in the fridge. "TV?" she asked.

They settled down on the couch, spooning. Her back was pressed against his chest, his arms wrapping around her.

She flipped through the channels, not with the intent of finding anything worth watching but to find some random show she could pretend to watch while curled up in his arms. Their fingers intertwined and he brought her hand up to give it a soft kiss.

Her head tilted back against his neck, letting her body relax. He inhaled deeply, breaking the silence.

"You still wear that French perfume," he noted.

"Uh-huh," she said. "I always thought it turned you on."

"It does." He caressed her hip over the material of her jeans.

"You gave me that first bottle, in Paris. I've worn it since then, it reminded me of you."

He grinned a little, skimming his fingers down her arm. "You know something, Jen?"

"Hmm?"

"You're beautiful."

She blushed some and then scoffed "You're just saying that."

"No. No, I'm not." He rolled her onto her back, lying on his side next to her. "You always have been, too."


	7. Chapter 7

The entire team had noticed the distinct changes in their Director, it was impossible not to as her weight loss had become painfully obvious. But as their superior nobody had done more than talk amongst themselves - to confront her would border on disrespect.

Gibbs had finally consulted Ducky about her worsening condition, but the only advice he could offer was to be there for her, and try to make sure she didn't lose any more weight.

"Cynthia," Director Shepard said. "Has the dress for the Marine Birthday Ball come back from the tailor yet?"

"Last week, Director." Cynthia walked in with the garment bag, handing it to her.

"Thank you, Cynthia."

"I'll tell your driver you're ready to go."

"That won't be necessary, Cynthia. I'm going home to change and then Special Agent Gibbs is escorting me tonight."

Cynthia nodded, "Yes, ma'am."

"Are you ready, Jenny?" Gibbs asked, knocking on the door.

"No!" She said. "Ugh, Jethro!" She called for him.

He cracked the bathroom door, "Yes?"

"I need your help."

He walked in, seeing her standing in front of the mirror. Her hair was fixed in a chignon and her make-up flawlessly applied but she was twisting around, trying to fasten the satin back of her dress tighter.

She was secretly pleased at how the once perfectly-sized outfit hung loose and showed off her collarbone and shoulders. Unfortunately, the gown's strapless nature meant that it would not stay securely - even with the assistance of her push-up bra. That was the one part of her weight loss she was unhappy about.

"Help me pin this, would you?" She handed him a handful of safety pins.

He took them from her and gathered the excess material of the garment. He was surprised by the appearance of her back and arms. Her shoulder blades jutted out and her arms looked like twigs. He knew she was still losing weight but he hadn't noticed quite how frail she had become. He had been particularly busy with a case involving a little girl and her family who had been found dead on the naval base. She had started wearing thick sweaters during the day and long-sleeved pajamas at night because she was constantly cold and she had been using every excuse in the book to avoid any intimate contact with him so he hadn't seen much of her body during the last several weeks. "I'm don't think safety pins will fix this, Jen."

She sighed, looking at the amount of fabric in his hand. "I guess you're right. It fit just fine when I picked it out, I didn't realize…" she trailed off.

"You're too skinny," he said, putting down the pins and turning her to face him.

"No, I was going to say, I didn't realize that they hadn't taken it in."

"You took it to the tailor a few weeks ago."

"Well, they must have made a mistake. It doesn't fit now."

"I can see that. Jen, this has gone way too far."

"I'm fine, Jethro."

"No, no you're not 'fine.'" He got the scale from the closet, trying to keep his concern from turning into anger. "How much?"

"Jethro, don't do this." She said, her eyes tearing up.

"Jenny," he said firmly.

She stepped on the scale, waiting for the digital numbers to appear.

He frowned when he saw the number, 94 - with her dress still on.

"Enough is enough, Jen," He said.

"What do you mean?"

"You need to get help!"

"What the hell am I supposed to do, Jethro? Waltz into the SecNav's office tomorrow morning and say, 'Excuse me sir, I'm requesting 6 weeks off to check into rehab'?" She laughed bitterly through her tears.

"I didn't say that Jenny," he said.

She pulled her dress off and threw it at him. "I've got an even better idea," she continued, yanking the pins out of her hair. "I'll just tell him that I'm a fucked-up mess and resign my position. What do you think of that idea, Jethro?"

"I didn't say that either, Jen. Would you listen to me? Just take a little time off, clear out your mind and take a break."

"Gibbs, I can't take time off, I'm the director!" She stomped into the closet and started trying to find something else to wear.

He followed her, blocking the doorway. "Damn it, Jenny! The agency can function for a few days without you. And right now that should be the least of your worries."

She ignored him, not saying a word as she slipped on a charmeuse gown and grabbed the matching shrug that sufficiently covered her back and arms. She picked up a pair of high-heels and tried to get through the door but he wouldn't let her pass. "I'm going to the ball, since it may be the last one I get to go to. Let me out, Gibbs."

"No." He said flatly.

"No!?" She asked, "Why don't you just leave? Go work on your damn boat. It's not your problem anyway."

"I can't walk away and let you slowly kill yourself, Jen. I love you."

"Don't," she warned as he walked towards her and wrapped his arms around her.

He had decided to change tactics, he had to appeal to her on a different level. "Jenny, Jen, don't do this to me. I can't lose you again,"


	8. Chapter 8

A/N - Thank you all so much for the kind reviews and comments. There are only a few more chapters left, and I'll try to get them up as soon as they've been through the last editing phase. I'm glad people are enjoying this… I was a little nervous about how the topic would be received.

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"Go get changed," he ordered once they had returned from the ball. He had spent nearly the entire time they were out coming up with ideas to get her out of town for a little. "Pack a bag."

"Jethro," she objected.

"This is not a debate, Jen. Pack a bag, for at least a week."

She could tell by the stern tone of his voice that he wasn't kidding around. It was a fight she'd lose no matter how long she fought.

"Where are you taking me?"

"We're going on a vacation."

She reluctantly packed a suitcase, filling it with comfortable clothes. She called Cynthia and asked her to discreetly find someone to take over for a short time while she was "attending a conference." Deep down she felt a little glad that Gibbs had decided to intervene, though it clashed directly with her need for control.

"Ready?" He asked her, holding out her red peacoat.

She didn't say anything, slipping the jacket on. He picked up her bags and headed to the car.

He drove to the vacation house of a friend just south of Shenandoah National Park. He knew she'd prefer a nice hotel or to stay at her own house but he wanted to get her as far away from her life as Director as he could. The Blue Ridge Mountains were the best he could come up with on short notice. She had fallen asleep during the two and a half hour drive so he woke her up and led her into the bedroom.

"Gibbs?"

"I'm right here,"

She nodded sleepily. "Where are we?"

"We're in Virginia. Come on, let me help you with your pajamas." He dug through her bag and helped her slip on a jersey knit nightgown. He softly kissed her cheek and then stripped down to his boxers and got under the covers with her. She moved closer to him as he pulled the down comforter around her shoulders. "I love you, Jenny."

He was already in the kitchen drinking his coffee when she woke up the next morning.

"Coffee?" He offered as she padded barefoot into the room, bundled in a fleece robe.

She nodded some and he got up, pouring her a mug and handing it to her. "You sleep alright?"

She nodded again, taking a sip of the potent liquid. "God, Jethro," she coughed. As much as she had become accustomed to black coffee, this was strong enough to burn a hole through something.

"Too strong?" He grinned slightly. "I think there's some cream in the fridge."

"I don't want any… you did that on purpose!" She added a tiny splash of cream to her drink and sat down next to him. "How long do we have to stay here?"

"Long enough," he said, swallowing the rest of his coffee. "Long enough so that I don't have to worry about you so much when we go back."

"What does that mean?"

"Just let me take care of things, for right now."

"Gibbs,"

"Don't argue, Jen." he cut her off. "C'mere." He patted his leg.

She put her coffee mug down and scooted into his lap. He put his arms around her and whispered into her hair, "Let me take care of you."

He knew that effectively kidnapping her and trying to make her eat probably wasn't the most effective way to fix the problem but he figured it was better than what he had been doing which was apparently letting her continue to lose weight while he thought she was doing better.

-----------------------

"Lunch time," he said setting an plate with an egg salad sandwich, carrot sticks and a pickle in front of her. Sitting next to her he started on his own sandwich.

She nibbled on the carrots and the pickle before beginning to dissect the sandwich, removing the bread and using her fork to scrape out the filling.

"Jen," he said.

She stopped, looking up. "Sorry," she remade the sandwich and picked it up, taking tiny bites.

He rubbed the small of her back gently. "Thank you."

She attempted to finish her food, making it through about half before the uncomfortable feeling of being full was more than she could bear.

"That's real good, Jen."

"Gibbs, I can't do this," she said.

"Of course you can."

"No, I really can't do this. I feel…" she trailed off.

"You feel what?"

"I feel… fat," She looked away embarrassed.

Part of him wanted to laugh at the absurdity of her statement, but instead he just said, "You're not fat, Jenny."

She shrugged, "You're just saying that."

"No, I'm not." He brushed her hair back, away from her face. "Have I ever lied to you before?"

She thought a moment and shook her head, "No."

"That's right. I will tell you if you ever get fat."

"Promise?"

"I promise, Jen."

"So how much do I have to gain to make you happy?"

"It's not about me being happy, it's about you being healthy."

"Semantics, Jethro. How much?"

"Ducky said you should be at least 108 pounds, but I'll take 100."

"You talked to Ducky?" She asked incredulously.

"Jen, he already knew. He's worried about you, too. We all are. And we have to fix this."

She exhaled, "Fine."

**--------------------------------------------**

They had been away for a week, and with Gibbs' careful watching Jenny had put on three pounds. It was incredibly difficult for her, but he was doing the best he could to continuously reassure her.

He pinned her to the bed, covering her lips with his mouth. She let his tongue caress hers, sliding her fingers through his hair.

His hands snaked under her shirt, starting to remove it. "Jethro," she said, pushing his hand away. "Leave it on, please."

Nodding, he moved on kissing her neck instead. She moaned softly, pushing her body towards his.

He shimmied out of his pants, pulling hers off as well. She kissed his chest, and then his throat, sucking lightly on the skin. She smiled when she felt him against her thigh. His hands ran down her sides, slipping underneath her hips. He kissed her lips again, moving with her.

As his mouth traveled to just below her ear he tugged at the bottom of her shirt again. "Please, Jen," he begged.

She didn't respond, but allowed him to slip the piece of clothing off. The onslaught of self-conscious thoughts was forced out of her head as his mouth found the newly exposed skin.

Almost immediately after they were finished she tried to reach for her clothes, he stopped her by pulling her into his arms.

"Uh-uh," he muttered as he kissed her shoulder.

"Jethro," she squirmed, attempting to get out of his grip. "Let me get dressed."

"Hey," he said. "You used to love this part."

She sighed, "Things change."

"Not that much," he stroked down her arm and intertwined his fingers with his. "And stop thinking what you're thinking."

She unsuccessfully attempted to relax against his touch. "You don't know what I'm thinking."

"Yeah, I do, Jen." He said, "You're putting yourself down, telling yourself things that aren't true. But you know something?"

She turned a little to face him, "Hmm?"

"I've always loved you, that's never changed."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Again, thank you all for the kind comments. I'm glad people are enjoying this story. I know it's been a little longer than expected for a new segment but real life obligations have gotten crazy. Anyway, after all the sweetness in the last chapter there's got to be a little drama.

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A total of 10 days had passed, and as much as Gibbs wanted to he couldn't keep her away from the agency any longer. She had gained a few more pounds - not enough to be considered healthy - but it did make her look less close to death.

"Director?" Ducky said, walking into her office at the end of her first week back.

"Yes, Ducky. You've got something for me?"

"Abigail ran those tests we discussed, on the Jane Doe. I've got the results."

She nodded as one of her oldest friends handed her a file of papers. She opened the envelope and began reading through the documents.

Ducky cleared his throat and she looked up.

"If I may offer some advice: talk to Jethro, he loves you and he's only trying to help."

"I'll take it under consideration." As much as she trusted the doctor, she wasn't in the mood to have this conversation with him.

"I trust you haven't told him about the other times."

"No, I haven't." She looked over the rim of her glasses. "I supposed I should."

"I think that would be a wise decision, Jenny."

"Thank you, Ducky."

She kept the information to herself for awhile, mulling over exactly what to tell and how to do the telling. Nearly a week after talking to Ducky she decided it was time.

At dinner, Gibbs brought the usual salad and bread. He had coaxed her to start using dressing and to add a little cheese or chicken.

"Ducky ran those tests," She said, extracting a crouton from under some lettuce and setting it aside. As one of the conditions for allowing her to return to work, she had agreed to have a physical to make sure she was otherwise healthy. She had insisted that Ducky be the one to do it, however.

He gave her that Gibbs look that said, "Go on."

"I'm fine, a little anemic. He recommended taking more vitamins. I told you I was fine."

She left out the part about long-term effects - the permanent damage to her metabolism, the loss of bone mass, the low blood pressure and risk of other heart problems and the likelihood of having various difficulties should she ever decide she wanted children. She had come to terms with these realities years ago and didn't want to rehash the topic with Gibbs.

He nodded a little, "That doesn't sound exactly fine, Jen."

"Jethro," she started. "There's something else."

"Yes?" The tone in her voice made him wonder what she was keeping from him.

She took a deep breath, "This has happened before."

"When?"

"It's when I get stressed. It started in college, and then again after my father was killed." A couple tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, trickling down her cheek. "And in Paris, after… after we broke up. You got that promotion for your own team and I was left in Europe, alone. I didn't know what to do."

Really, the feeling of free falling had started the first week they had spent in Paris. She had made a probie mistake and while he covered for her, he had reprimanded her harshly. More harshly than she felt was necessary. It had stuck with her and by the end of their mission she had convinced herself that their relationship could never work, and she had broken up with him before he could leave her. Even though she had made that choice, feeling it was best for her, the consequences of it had left her spinning further out of control.

"Jenny," he paused. He was never great with words and he could tell this situation needed as much delicacy as he could find. "I wasn't trying to leave you."

"I would have been moved back to the field office in Rota; I didn't have orders to go to DC," she cried.

He moved towards her, putting his arm around her. "Jen, you left before I could finish talking to you that night." He stroked her hair, "I was going to tell you that I was going to request you for my senior field agent."

She cried harder at the realization that she had thrown their relationship away for nothing.

"Shhh," he whispered. "It's ok, we're both here now. And I'm not going anywhere."

She buried her face against his chest, not saying anything. He rubbed her neck, letting her stay in his arms as long as she needed.

Finally, after nearly an hour of crying, her sobs subsided and she sat up, rubbing at her eyes.

"Shit," she looked at the mascara smeared on her hands and on his shirt. "Sorry about that."

"It's ok, Jen." he said, "Are you?"

"I'm good," she stood up and walked into the bathroom attached to her office. She splashed water on her face and dabbed off the makeup that had run. "I'll find you a clean shirt."

"Jenny," he came up behind her.

"No. Don't, Jethro." She dug around in the drawer and pulled out a tube of mascara and some concealer, going about the task of pulling herself back together. He watched her from the door frame.

She reapplied her lipstick and smoothed out her hair. "Thank you for dinner, Special Agent Gibbs," she said, clearly dismissing him.

He sighed as he left her office. Now wasn't the right time to push the issue, he'd wait until later.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I rewrote this so many times it's not even funny. And once again, I know there was a longer delay. Can you tell where what I had before I started posting this ended and where I had to start writing on a timeline started? Yeah, not too hard. Also, it's taking longer to write the beginning of recovery parts having had much less experience in that department.

And I know Gibbs is a little sappy-sweet, but I don't think he would ever leave her knowing something was wrong.

* * *

He waited in the squad room until he heard the clicking of her heels on the overhead walkway. The rest of the team had gone home for the weekend, but she had stayed late in hopes of avoiding the conversation.

He caught her at the elevators, "You ready to go home? I'll drive you."

She nodded silently, punching the button for the parking garage.

He walked her to the car and opened the door for her. The drive to her house was just as silent as the elevator ride had been.

Inside, she slipped off her heels and set her tote bag on the chair. He took her jacket and hung it in the closet.

"Come sit," he said motioning towards the sofa.

He started a fire in the fireplace and sat down. Reluctantly she joined him, hugging her knees to her chest. She gazed into the fire.

"We can sit here all night," he said after awhile.

"I don't have to answer to you, I'm your boss," she replied sharply.

"Cut the director crap, Jen. We're not on the job. Right now, you're not my boss - you're the woman I love and you need help."

"Gibbs," she started. "Drop it."

"I'm trying to understand, but I can't until you talk to me."

She got up and walked over to the liquor cabinet, getting herself a bourbon. She poured one for him as well and he nodded a 'thanks' at her as she sat back down and steeled herself.

Eventually she asked, "You really want to know all about my deep, dark secret? All the dirty, gritty details?"

He gave her another Gibbs look.

"Fine. It started my senior year of college - like with everything I got obsessive about it and when I came home for Christmas, I was 86 pounds."

She caught the grimace that flashed on his face, "You wanted to know. Anyway, they hospitalized me for 'exhaustion.' I really was sick that time, I didn't know what I was doing; I didn't think about taking vitamins or anything. I was literally living on coffee and cigarettes except for bingeing and purging. So I gained some weight back and resolved to never let that happen again."

"And?"

"Well, it didn't. I've always been more careful and I've never managed to get below 105 before the fear of being hospitalized again got to me."

"What about this time?"

"I don't know. I gained some weight, I'm fine now."

"You know that's not true."

"I told you, I don't know, Jethro. I don't know if it's fixable."

"What does that mean?"

"Since then I guess I never have eaten 'normally.'"

"When we were in Europe?"

"Yes, Jethro, it was a problem then, too. And before you ask, yes, the times in Paris I was 'sick' were times you caught me."

"So, it wasn't us breaking up?"

She shook her head, "No, I left because I figured if we stayed together you'd find out… and leave. So I left first, thinking it was best for me, for the both of us."

"You should have told me, I could have helped you, Jen."

"Maybe, maybe not, but that's not the point. I didn't want help then. It's not a rational thought process."

"Do you want help now?"

She shrugged, "I haven't decided."

He nodded a little and there was a period of silence. Finally he said, "Well, what makes it worse?" He just wanted to understand, and to protect her from whatever it was that was hurting her.

She rested her chin on her knees. "It's not even about food or weight, it's a control thing," she said finally. "But sometimes it feels like what I eat and what I weigh are the only thing I can control."

"Oh, Jenny." He sighed, "You don't have to do this alone."

She shook her head.

"I won't leave you, Jen." He got up to add another log to the fire. "You can keep pushing me away, but I'm not going anywhere."

She stared in silence at the flames, eventually drifting to sleep. He put the fire out and leaned down over her. "Jen, let's go upstairs."

She stirred some, her eyes half-opening but snuggling deeper against the couch.

"Come on," he said. "Put your arms around my neck." She sleepily obliged and he picked her up, carrying her to the bedroom. On the way she woke up enough to get changed into a nightgown, wash her face and brush her teeth. She crawled into bed, rolling over to her side quickly falling back to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** I'm not entirely pleased with the ending here, but I felt like it deserved to be completed and to have an ending of some sort instead of going around in circles. Thanks to everyone who has read or reviewed this, I do appreciate it!

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The next months were comprised of a repetitive series of events. She'd gain a few pounds, start restricting her diet again, lose the weight again and Gibbs would start his worrying again.

She was lying in bed alone one Sunday morning, Gibbs was downstairs fixing breakfast. She wondered to herself how it was that he had difficulty making anything more complex than a sandwich but yet he still could cook an amazing breakfast.

The smells of home fries, sausage and scrambled eggs drifted up the stairs making her stomach growl. It had been forever since she had tasted his Sunday morning breakfasts, the last time being in Serbia. And more recently she ate some fruit and maybe some yogurt instead.

Her thoughts wandered to the nearly twenty years she had spent perfecting the illogical science that was her "food issue." She called it that, instead of the more clinical terms of anorexia nervosa or even an eating disorder. For so long she had convinced herself neither one applied to her.

While the fear of being hospitalized again and having the control snatched away from her had been the reason she had "gotten better" in the past, she was now faced with a different fear, the loss of Gibbs. As much as he insisted that he would stand by her, she knew that there was a breaking point and that they were approaching it much too quickly.

They had discussed the issue too many times and had still gotten nowhere. He practically begged her to get help, she agreed and a week later they were having the same conversation.

It wasn't that she didn't want to let Gibbs in, and let go of the demons that were destroying her, but that she couldn't. The idea of losing control was one that scared her to death. He tried to make her see that she wasn't the one in control but rather she was being controlled.

She considered the idea of seeking help and making a wholehearted attempt at truly getting better instead of simply gaining back some weight and pretending the underlying problems didn't exist. For a brief moment she was lost in the possibility of not being controlled by the need for control, to be able to let things go and not internalize them. As many times as she had thought about it, this was the first time it seemed even remotely feasible.

The next idea that struck her caused her to get up and head towards the kitchen.

----------------------------

She tiptoed up behind Gibbs who was stirring the potatoes with a spatula and slid her arms around him, "Morning."

He grinned a little and kept stirring, "Morning."

He used a fork to spear one of the potato wedges, checking to see if it was done.

"Hey, gimme some," she said, taking the fork from him and trying a bite for herself.

"They're not done yet."

"I know," he leaned down and kissed her nose. He went back to stirring the potatoes and checking on the sausage. "Should I leave some for you?"

"Maybe a little bit," she said, knowing he'd be surprised. He always asked her if she wanted any, even though she never did. "I've been thinking."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Are you going to tell me what about?"

"Just stuff‚ like what we were talking about last night."

"Hmm, and?"

"I don't know, but maybe you're right."

She looked up at him as he turned her to face him, abandoning the pans on the stove. He leaned down to kiss her, "Really?"

"Really," she said, kissing him back. "Perhaps. Partially."

He smiled a little, the smile that said he knew he had been right all along.

"Jethro," she whispered. "Your potatoes are burning."

Finally, he had convinced her try to break the cycle and to make an actual attempt at truly getting better instead of simply pretending that the underlying problems didn't exist.

It wouldn't be a quick or easy fix but it was a problem that would continue until she managed to confront it. And the alternative was a most unattractive option when she thought about it objectively - living with the disorder was exhausting, there wasn't any true benefit and she knew that one day it would be the death of her.

And eventually, she could take advantage of the second chance to be happy with the man she loved.


End file.
